The Bard
by Mi Ling Chi
Summary: Rin would follow him everywhere, and maybe once, he would follow her.


**I cried while writing this, so enjoy.**

* * *

A green whip cut through the air. A scream sounded in the night. A head dropped to the earth with a thud, rolling away as the body fell too.

"Thank you my lord," a twelve year old girl said, bowing her head out of propriety.

She held her arm to her chest as she pushed herself to her knees with only one hand. The white beauty of a man, the man who'd taken care of the threat, approached calmly, holding out his hand. She grabbed onto it and pulled herself to her feet, looking up at him finally with glimmering brown eyes. His hand remained outstretched and ever so slowly, she handed him her arm.

He grasped the wrist and turned it over harshly. A muffled sound escaped her lips as she scrunched up her nose in pain. The sleeve of her yukata slipped down to her elbow as he examined the injured arm. It was bruised a nasty purple color, bleeding from multiple scratches, and the wrist stuck out at an odd angle.

He let go of the arm and she pulled to her chest speedily.

"Let us go."

He walked away, and she followed.

* * *

The arm healed eventually. He had taken her to the wife of his hated half-brother and left her there until it healed completely. When he'd returned, she bounded towards him and threw her arms around his neck, nuzzling the fur on his shoulder. She chatted excitedly at him, telling him of all of her adventures in the village, how much she missed him, etcetera. He listened, nodding occasionally, making a small sound or two here and there so she'd be pleased.

A bubbling creek ran past them as they slowly strolled by its side. The black-haired human girl smiled brightly, her eyes shut with mirth as she giggled about some nonsense or another. The sun was setting, painting the world in hues of red, pink, orange, and gold. The birds sang their farewells, and the animals began to bed down for the evening.

He was ready to leave, ready to return to his ways of wandering. He could sense that the girl was as well. She was as tied to wanderlust as he was. So when he walked away, she followed.

* * *

Pink, red, blue, purple, yellow, and orange. They were colors, _the _colors of the flower bouquet she was slowly weaving into her hair as she sat atop his dragon steed. He found himself looking back at her more frequently than normal, watching as her small fingers braided the flowers into her hair. She did not notice his gaze, or the intentness with which he studied her, too wrapped up in her task to notice the world buzzing around her.

He could not help but notice as well, the color that she was. Her skin was bronze, though her cheeks were tinted a nice shade of red. Her eyes were brown, large and inviting. Her lips were colored too, a soft, natural pink. She wore a bright yukata, yellow overall with green, red, and orange stripes. Her obi was a sky blue. She was color to his stark whiteness.

He shook his head a fraction. He was starting to sound like a human poet, ruled by such devils as emotion.

So he continued walking, and she followed with flowers in her hair.

* * *

She was fourteen now, enamored by such human things as lip coloring and coal eye lining. Instead of new yukata, he would gift her with books of poetry for that was what she'd come to enjoy most. She was dramatic, acting overly insulted anytime Jaken spoke to her. She mouthed verses as they walked, and every night she'd recite another poem to him.

"Of winter breath cold, The earth lay dormant asleep, But will wake come spring."

She was mediocre, and he found her attempts at grandeur falling flat humorous. But she'd laugh and try again the next night with the same failing results. She asked him on multiple occasions to try as well, but he shook his head she shrugged her shoulders.

"Down beneath the ground, Lay in misery a beast, Waiting for his meal."

"You are getting better," he commented. A grin lit her features and she danced around the camp. He found it… endearing.

The next day he set out, and she followed, forming her next poem.

* * *

When she was fifteen, she asked to visit his brother's domain. He nodded his head and changed course to where the scent of his hated brethren reeked strongest. He did not follow her into the village; let her bound ahead instead on long legs. When he smelled that she had reached the village safely, he continued on his way in another direction. He'd come to retrieve her at a later time.

When that time rolled around, and he went to retrieve her to cease the endless annoyance of Jaken, he found her in the village, standing on a wooden crate. Her voice travelled far, loud and comforting. Her voice also carried to him the words of another of her poems. He stayed out of sight and listened, slightly less intrigued then her enrapt audience.

"The child leaps from, Leg to Leg like a dancer, On the forest floor."

"Another," her audience cried.

"The morning sun rise, Wash alight glistening white, Upon winter snow."

"Encore," they cried. She laughed mirthfully, waving her hand, a smile so bright and big it rivalled the sun.

"I'm sorry, that's all I have right now but I'm glad you enjoyed it."

The audience clapped, some still crying out for more like a nursing babe. She laughed, she talked with a few of the elders who stopped to listen, and even picked up one of the children who was begging for her attention.

Finally, when the crowd had dispersed, she caught sight of him and rushed to him. She chatted eagerly at him, sharing tales of adventure and fun.

That evening, come dusk, she said goodbye and followed the man walking away.

* * *

When she was seventeen, a hundred vassals of a high-ranking lord stopped them in their vagabond ways. One of the vassals approached the front, bowed to him and her, and pulled out a scroll and began to read.

The lord was requesting the presence of the bard at his wedding, for news of her ability with words had spread far and wide within the land of Nihon. Her mouth had dropped at that, though a smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

Of course she said yes.

She parted ways with her demon travelers and stepped into the litter, letting the vassals carry her off to a castle somewhere far away. Her companions continued to travel.

She returned to them a year later, dressed in even finer silks than he had ever provided, and with more stories than ever. That night around the campfire, she told of court politics and intrigue. Of a murder mystery even. She shared of friends who had wormed their way into her heart and handsome samurai that had coming seeking her hand. She said no of course. She shared with them even more poems, better than the ones before.

The next morning, they set out and she continued to follow.

* * *

When she was twenty-three, she parted ways with the group again, this time to head to the capitol of Nihon to start a school for to-be bards like herself. She cried as she said goodbye to the dragon heads Ah and Un; the trusty steed on which she spent many days riding on, and many nights curled up next to. She cried as she said goodbye to Jaken; the vassal of her lord who as annoying as he was, had always been there for her.

She didn't cry when she said goodbye to her lord though. It wasn't because she wasn't sad to leave him, but because unlike the others, she knew she didn't need a big show of emotion to know that she would be forever imprinted in him. She did repeat one thing she had said to him as a child though.

"Even after I die, will you remember?"

"Don't be so silly," he echoed from those days long gone, and pulled her tight against him. Jaken sobbed from the sidelines as he held onto her, and she held onto him.

That day, he walked away and she did not follow.

* * *

He heard what became of the bard. She started the school as she had said she would. Men and women flocked from all over Nihon in hopes to receive entrance into the school. Lords sent their sons to her with carts full of everything she could ever desire. She took the sons under her wings, and took the gifts to divide amongst the orphans.

She never married, nor had children. She remained celibate her entire life, choosing to forgo the pleasures of the flesh to teach future bards and care for orphans who had no hope beyond her. She was kind and caring. Much of Nihon came to see her as a saint, and when the ships from the West arrived with men of sickly pallor, they named her a saint of their Christianity.

He would occasionally find himself hidden in the branches of a tree in the gardens of her school, watching as she walked with a gaggle of scholars and gangly children, speaking her words of wisdom that they ate up like the sweetest of treats.

She remained youthful in appearance for a very long time, up into her late forties. Eventually, she too was gnarled by the fangs of time. In her old age, she was bent over and walked with a cane. Still, her voice carried, and across the lands her poems were recited.

And finally, eighty some years after her birth, she slipped first into the night, never to breathe or talk with such vigor again.

He too mourned that day, and for the first time, let himself cry.

* * *

Many centuries later, when the proud demon lord could no longer wander, he followed her into the night.


End file.
